I’m on a mission. It is even more important than the crucial Goodnight Moon mission I laid out for you a little while back; it is a mission of love. Breast love. Hence my attraction to a book called Breasts: A Natural and Unnatural History by Florence Williams.
Let me backtrack to explain my boob obsession. I, your Cook of the Books, am the flattest person I know. When I say I’ve made straight As, I’m talking about everything. Actually my cups may be AAs… pending hormonal fluctuations.
It is perhaps an unusual point of view, but I think think being flat is fantastic. I adore my flat chest. I REALLY believe that women need to start loving whatever size they are and not spend so much money on padded underwires and leaky surgeries that may cause their chest to lose all sensation. Plus, in addition to my ability to make ridiculously maudlin faces, a flat chest is another reason I am fairly sure I was supposed to be a ’20s film star. Flappers excel at flat.
I am so obsessed with the topic of breasts, I wrote a play called FLAT. It’s good, (mostly) clean fun. I’ve gotten to perform it around LA, toured it to St. Louis and am trying to spin it into an episodic. But I should shut up about my own writing and get back to Florence Williams.
Lest you are confused about what you’ll learn from Breasts, Williams spells it out early on, declaring her book to be “an environmental history of the body part”. When she says “environmental”, she is talking about the environment ecologically and sociologically. She covers a multitude of theories on why we humans (usually, but not always, just female humans) got breasts. It is pretty interesting to speculate on how more men than women theorize that breasts came about for their sexual pleasure. More women agree that the benefits of breast-feeding which helped us evolve as a species spurred the development of women… ahem, developing.
Williams covers a lot of serious issues, such as how we are entering adolescence earlier due to chemicals in the environment. Plastics will kill you, and I am not just talking about heart attacks suffered when you see your credit card bill. I’m talking breast cancer and cellular damage that can be passed on for generations.
Breasts is not all seriousness, though. Williams starts us off with some thoughts about the names we have for breasts, which got me thinking about how many food nicknames there are: fried eggs, pancakes, love muffins… all of which brings me back to being flat. I am okay with my breasts being pancakes. Heck, I’m not even a pancake. More like a crepe. Either way, all I’m saying is that my breasts are delicious with maple syrup.
I came up with pancakes whose size can be adapted to honor whether or not you are a short stack. They can be made very thin and flat, somewhat endowed, or full-on voluptuous. Honor what you’ve got. Love yourself. Make some pancakes, let happiness ensue, joy, etc.
- 1 cup flour
- 1 cup whole wheat flour
- 1 or 2 tsp. baking powder (1 yields A-cups, 2 yields B’s-I made A’s)
- 1/2 tsp.
- 2 eggs (for C-cups beat the whites separately and fold in at the end)
- 2 cups of milk
- 2 Tbsp. melted butter, plus more for the griddle and serving
- maple syrup
This is easy. Whisk your flour, whole wheat flour, baking powder and salt together. In another bowl mix eggs and milk. Stir those mixtures together. No worries about lumps. You want all the lumps in the world in your breast pancakes, and not in your breasts. Stir in the butter last. Heat a skillet (preferably nonstick) up and either throw a bit of butter on there or spray with a nonstick spray. Make these pancakes as big or little as you please. Ladle in some batter and when the top starts to bubble you can flip and cook the other side. Eat with yet MORE BUTTER!!!! And maple syrup. Real maple syrup please. Leftover cold pancakes will be exceptional with peanut butter and apples butter, just so’s ya know. Now give your boobs a loving pat. Feel the love.